The guy with whom I'm dining has never eaten a Rocky Mountain oyster, and I've found that it's best not to enlighten someone – especially a guy – as to where calf fries come from until after he's eaten one or two. The only people who don't like Rocky Mountain oysters are the ones who are afraid of them.

If you grow up on a working cattle ranch, like I did, you don't think twice about eating calf testicles. It's just part of the culture. It's a rite of passage for kids on the ranch, like getting your first pair of spurs or shooting your first rifle. But even as a kid on the ranch, it's generally not until you've been eating them for several years that you finally discover what they are. By then, you're hooked.

For the uninitiated urban dweller, the idea of eating “calf fries” doesn't always sit well. Fortunately, this guy doesn't push the subject further. He's an adventurous eater who will try just about anything.

And when the “oysters” arrive, they are beautiful. They look like beignets, or oversized hush puppies. They're battered in cornmeal and fried to a deep golden crisp. The batter is heavily spiced with chili powder and probably black pepper. Break one apart and the inside looks sort of like sweetbreads, and it has a similar texture and flavor – although I've always thought the closest comparison is probably that little nub of chicken fat where a chicken thigh meets the tail. They're served with a schmear of citrusy crème fraîche, which gives them an air of sophistication.

When Hopscotch opened last year, this place felt more like a bar than a restaurant. But a few months ago, they rebooted their kitchen. They brought in a new chef, Cody Storts, formerly a consulting chef to Wild Goose and whose name had long been attached to the forever-delayed Volstead in Santa Ana. And for the first time, they also brought in a full-time pastry chef, Mai Phan, formerly of The Californian and Chapter One. Everything about the kitchen has changed.

Aesthetically, the bar and dining room still look the same. A stuffed sheep and elk still stare down from the rafters of what used to be the Pacific Electric Railway Station. And the cocktails are still creative. They serve a mind-boggling selection of Scotch.

And the music is always very good. One night, it's an old-school soul jam with Barry White pitted against Isaac Hayes. The next night, it's an '80s flashback with Depeche Mode, the Cure and Duran Duran. Music clearly plays an important role here, and while the din grows loud at the height of the dinner rush, the music never feels intrusive.

The service is still bar-like, although there are some waiters who take a keener interest in food and hospitality than others.

If calf testicles aren't your thing, start instead with the fried pig's ears. They're sliced into matchstick-size slivers and dusted with cornmeal and served with a sinus-clearing Fresno chili coulis. The blue crab tots are fun, too. They look like tater tots, but they're made with rice, so they are probably more closely related to arancini. They're served in a puddle of cilantro chimichurri and pico de gallo, which has a nice kick to it. And the french fries are outstanding. The thick-cut, twice-fried potatoes are topped with powdered ranch dressing, a trick that probably involves liquid nitrogen. It looks pretty but doesn't actually add anything to the taste.

Thankfully, not everything comes from the deep fryer. If you have several friends to share with, you should consider the pork belly rillettes, which are decadent and luscious, almost like a jar of lard. A little bit goes a long way.

And the PB&J is fun, a miniature loaf of brioche, daintily sliced and served with homemade red-currant jam and thick, chunky pumpkin-seed butter.

You can skip the Korean barbecue short rib jerky, which tastes like it was overcooked and the chef decided to call it jerky. And I get the feeling the cooks don't actually eat salads. The Caesar dressing is bland, even when there's too much of it. And a salad of butter lettuce with a dressing of pomegranate and hibiscus tastes like something designed for supermodels, meant to be poked at rather than actually eaten.

Fortunately, most dishes aren't like that. The turducken is a caloric wonderland that reminds me of Thanksgiving in New Orleans. Turducken is that Louisiana absurdity in which a chicken is stuffed into a duck that's stuffed into a turkey, or something like that. Here, the three birds are melded together without bones in the sous-vide machine, then grilled to order and topped with a wet andouille-cornbread stuffing and duck gravy. Visually, it's a mess. But dang it sure tastes good.

The sous-vide machine works overtime. Tri-tip, which is normally a tough, lean piece of meat suitable only for low-and-slow barbecue, becomes incredibly satisfying as a steak when cooked in the sous-vide steamer and served with a warm red center.

I always hesitate to order meatloaf in a restaurant because meatloaf is such a personal thing. But the version here is different enough that everyone should be able to like it without hurting mom's feelings. The meatloaf is wrapped in bacon and cooked in the sous-vide cooker until the bacon and loaf have melded into a single, tender, juicy block of nostalgia slathered with chili paste.

One day at brunch, when I try to order the chicken-fried duck with buttermilk biscuit and grits, the waitress looks at me with no sympathy whatsoever and says, “We ran out of that hours ago.” It had never occurred to her to tell us this when she gave us the menus. But all is not lost. The chilaquiles prove to be very good. And even better is the pork and eggs, which comes with a hunk of meltingly tender pork butt the size of a softball.

I've always struggled to save room for dessert here. Maybe it's all that fried food at the beginning. But when the chocolate pot de crème arrives, I'm suddenly hungry again. It's a vat of excellent chocolate pudding that would be a shame to waste.

The Rocky Mountain oysters at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The crispy pig ears at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Bartender Neil Matchkow starts a group of drinks at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Chef Cody Storts puts the final touches on a dish at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The brunch pork and eggs at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
A good crowd fills the lower tables inside on a recent evening at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Beer quotes, this one from John Churchill, adorn the walls behind patrons at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
A bartender pours a beer at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Pastry chef Mia Phan works her magic in the kitchen at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Chef Cody Storts puts the final touches on a dish at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Kelly Ramirez, of Fullerton, left, and Deborah Garcia, of La Marada enjoy a cocktail at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The Chocolate Goat Cheesecake with graham cracker chantilly, strawberry gelee, graham tuile, graham cracker crumbs and micro mint at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The Buccaneer cocktail at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The Tortuga cocktail at Hopscotch in downtown Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The brunch pork and eggs at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The Bacon Meat Loaf with chile sauce, mashed potatoes and purple heirloom carrots at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The hand cut fries with bacon ranch powder at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The Chocolate Pots de Creme with ganache and snicker doodles at Hopscotch in Fullerton. KEVIN SULLIVAN, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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